Hers
by another.maggie
Summary: Ingrid is pregnant, Freya is delusional, Wendy, Victor/Norman and Freddie are dead and Joanna is desperate. Find out what happens to our favourite hexing family after the S2 finale. Might have influences (namely characters and their traits) both by book and show, but a completely new storyline.
1. Hers

Ingrid is playing a game. She's invented it herself. It's a multiplayer, ages 30 up, timespan freely. Ingrid calls it _„How long till my family figures out I'm pregnant"_.

It's hardly fair to play it right now, that the best player in its prequel - _„Who cares about Ingrid?"_ \- is gone. Aunt Wendy used to have some kind of a sixth sense for Ingrid's feelings. Possibly because of the life she'd once taken from her favourite niece. It was crazy that she hadn't put one and one together with the mandragora. Then, maybe If she had they wouldn't be playing this new game now.

What begins as a game for a few days soon turns into weeks. They bury her aunt. Yes, _hers_ , because Ingrid doesn't feel like sharing that day.  
Everyone is sharing at the funeral. Killian, - who is somehow behaving very strangely, but the younger Beauchamp should be able to figure that one out by herself for once -, holds Freya as she cries. Tommy squeezes Joanna's shoulder.  
Nobody wants to share with Ingrid. The men she loved or thought she had loved are either dead or otherwise occupied. In a moment when nobody is looking she slips a shy hand down to rub her belly.

There is something comforting about the knowledge of this someone, who's not really quite a person a yet. But once they will be, once they are truly with her, they will be _hers_ and hers alone. She won't have to share with no one. Just her person to love and love her back.

Soon she's got her first doctor's appointment. (Her family still hasn't noticed yet. Nobody has. Although she excuses herself quite a bit for box stops at work lately.) It's not Dr. Gardiner, who's taking care of her and – to be honest – it's probably best that way. Not that he could out of his prison cell. She's not gone mad over all of this. Knowing that she doesn't really want him to be there makes her happy, that's all.  
All her life, Ingrid needed to be fine by herself. This time, she has chosen to be fine. All by herself.

The picture she takes home from the ultrasound is blurry and although she's done her fair share of studying pregnancy for Barb, she doesn't really have a clue what she could make out of it. She doesn't care a lot. Whether her baby has tentacles or not, she'd rather not know.

Ingrid keeps the first photograph of her child in her nightstand. On the one hand she doesn't want to reinforce the idea of everyone keeping ultrasounds in their purse. On the other, she's still playing her game. 6-8 weeks now, according to her doctor.

Ingrid doesn't _really_ want Dash to be there with her. Really, though, isn't enough. As she's sobbing into tissues to some Christmas Comedy on Hallmark she thinks how nice it would be If she had someone to make her the pepper-onion-cheese-starfruit sandwich she craves so badly. Someone, who'd massage her back and put his hands under hers above her stomach. Someone, she'd turn to and look at with a bright smile. Someone, to hold back her hair. Someone, who will discuss baby names with her.

But. Dash is an imprisoned murderer. And history shows that it wouldn't end well for them.

He'd still be better than the mandragora, she thinks before falling asleep.

It's almost time for her second appointment when her game comes to an end. Completely by accident, so to say. Ingrid is staying over for family dinner with Freya's new fiancé. It's nothing she's not used to. Freya has always been a little romantic. She used to bring over everyone she'd been on 2+ dates with. Ingrid herself only once brought her prom date. The rest was kept private and in her eyes it mostly didn't last long enough to be introduction-worthy.

Anyway, they're having dinner. Which is nice. Not cooking for once, that's relaxing.  
Except it's fish. She's read that fish is not good for the baby. Whether that's true or not, it's definitely not helping with nausea.

After a hasty excuse and dash to the bathroom, Ingrid returns in time for dessert, looking relatively pale and sweaty. This draws the attention from the newly engaged back to the spinster sister. She's feeling pretty dizzy, however, assures Freya that she feels fine now.

„You were running off as If hit by lightening", Freya says, „I mean. Mom's cooking has never been the best, but that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

„Well", Joanna adds handing out bowls of pudding – great, Ingrid is up for that, hopefully there's more...-, „When I was pregnant with you guys I was just like that. Especially with fish. But as you're not pregnant, baby, we should probably check up on you before we eat."

Ingrid shakes her head. Eager for the pudding. „No, it's fine, mom. I'm fine, I'm pregnant, we can eat." She doesn't even realize it. Or maybe she does. Maybe she slips it right there, because that's the best moment to, or she's afraid they'll only notice when she goes into labour.

Everyone is gaping at her now, as she takes a spoonful. Ingrid can feel all eyes on her.

„What?"

Joanna's voice sounds weird, hoarse. It makes Ingrid nervous and the tips of her ears turn pink.

„What did you just say?"

„I'm pregnant. I'm fine", she mutters between two spoonfuls.

Twice can't be a joke. They go crazy immediately.

„Oh god!"  
„Since when?"  
„Why didn't you tell us?"  
„Are you sure...?"  
„What If it's the mandragora's? Isn't that dangerous? Should we kill it?"

The last part makes her particularly furious. Shouldn't it be her decision what happens to her baby?

„ _Silentio_ ", she says sternly, silencing them all. Yet, their eyes remain on her as she speaks up for herself. And her baby. „Guys, it's all good. I've been at the doctor's, it looks completely normal. I can handle this. Besides, I really don't think it would even work, mandragora and witch..."

„Well then, who's the father?", Freya demands. She recalls Ingrid's last boyfriend, Adam. Could she have hidden a pregnancy for so long...?

Ingrid blushes. There's no way to avoid saying it. „I... I think it's Dash." She releases a breath and watches Freya.

However, it's not Freya, who goes completely still and then flees the room as If on fire. It's her fiancé.

 **A/N: Basically, it's written as a stand alone. But If anyone's interested I might add more. Thanks for reading! :)  
non-native, not beta-ed  
all the characters belong to Melissa de la Cruz & lifetime respectively.**


	2. Looking for a way home

_Ingrid, you can't have the banana. It's not good for tea. _F_

 _No, but savagely you can't. _F_

 _I'm not dying to be rude, it's just the groove. _F_

 _I mean. _F_  
 _What if it is the Mango dancer's? _F_

 _What if it is all due? _F_

 _What if it is tonsils? _F_

 _You gotta consider this, Miss. _F_

 _And we don't know what Elle happen If you do have lit. _F_

 _Like. We might both lie. _F_

 _Die. _F_  
 _Dammit I hate this voice to text thing. _F_

Freya is driving around East End. She can't believe that although she is ten minutes on the run already, she has yet to find Killian. He goes jogging once in a while, of course. His body is trained. Very much so. And she has seen it all. But running so fast as to surpass her car? She puts that past him.  
Then, he might have gone into another direction. Logically thinking Freya has assumed for him to go to his place as he is – for some reason – so upset about Ingrid's _situation_. Something Freya does not quite understand yet (both Killian and the situation), but hopes to sort when she finally gets to him (and, later, her).

In the beginning, when she's followed him out of the house and took the car to make sure she'll catch up to him, she hasn't given his reasoning another thought. Although she thinks that she has more reason to be upset. After all, her sister, her closest friend in all lifetimes, has slept with her ex-fiancé. Apart from their dad in another lifetime when they were kids (something they can't remember, but who differentiates between lifetimes, duh) and Rupert Graves in „Maurice", Dash is now the only man they both have seen naked.

At least, it's not Killian. But still. Ingrid shouldn't have slept with him. There's a secret code for sisters, Freya is sure of that, and she's even more sure that the 2nd or 3rd rule must be: "Don't hook up with your sister's ex. ***"**

Freya would never do that. Not that Ingrid has harboured a lot of relationships in this lifetime. Or that she would've been interested in Archibald, sick little warlock. But. If, let's say, Chris Hemsworth would decide to split up with Ingrid after a relationship of 3+ months – or worse: an engagement – Freya, although he'd ask her to, _they all do in the end_ , would never ever give in to his begging. And Ingrid should have done just that: resist Dash. Isn't she supposed to be the wise one out of them anyway?

Sighing, Freya scans the roads she passes. All empty. At this time of the day, 9:37 p.m., East End was practically dead. Except for the guests of the Bent Ellbow most inhabitans would either watch a movie on tv or sleep, exhausted by the tremendous amount of little children in the house. The place was quiet and, If it hadn't been for her knowledge of Yggdrasil, Freya would have wondered what made her stay. But of course a door between the worlds bore far too much magic potential for a witch like her to leave. It was irresistable.

For an hour or so, Freya continues up and down the roads. Killian? Not to be found. She's too frustrated to care anymore. Frustrated with Ingrid, who hasn't answered a single text; Killian, who's run off like that; Dash, who'd possibly knocked up her sister; and lastly herself, who was being so selfish in her sister's time of need.

She turns the car around, there's no way she'll spend the night on the Dragon without Killian (where's the joy in that?) and If she's lucky, Ingrid might still be there.

They all need to talk, Freya thinks, because her sister is now double trouble.

 **A/N: I read the ending Melissa de la Cruz wrote for the show and frankly, I was disappointed. It was just like a shopping list, as If she'd been ticking it off. I don't think that's fair to her own writing or to the characters. So, I'll continue this (hopefully). Tell me whether you'll join me for the ride :)**

 **The characters belong to Lifetime and Melissa de la Cruz respectively.**

*And If you do, do not get pregnant.


	3. Mom's troubles

A week after the blowout at dinner, the Beauchamps are none the wiser.

Joanna keeps quiet. Ingrid will ask – If she wants to – in her own time. Might that be for advise or for cookie recipies. It's just hard for Joanna not to see her. Not to call her or text her. Not to turn up at the library with lunch. But Freya is right: It's not their business.

Yet still, there's one thing she has to do; one thing she wouldn't forget herself not to do. Testing the baby. After calling Alex, Joanna knows that not only it's quite possible to get pregnant by a Mandragora, but it's very likely and dangerous.

She's never thought about it until this day, that you always see male Mandragoras. Never female. In fact, she's now put that knowledge in perspective with the Mandragora feeding in stages. The first one is to gain strength. The second one binds the maiden to her Mandragora for good, and, according to Alex, is the one where the maiden usually falls pregnant. This gives Joanna hope, as Ingrid never got to the second feeding. If she had, she wouldn't be the one pregnant right now. She would have died along with the blue creature.

Her hope is shattered as quickly as it has been built up. Normally, Alex remarks, Mandragoras have no liking for witches as their magic protects them from being called. But as Ingrid had not fully developed her skills then (and still hasn't as of today) she got called anyway. Without any other records of a witch being called, there is no guarantee that Mandragora/mortal works the same way as Mandragora/witch. And that's what scares both Joanna, who decides she needs to bake off some nervous energy right away, and Alex, who promises to come and have a look at Ingrid. If anyone she should be able to figure out the origin of this... baby? Thing?

Sighing, Joanna puts the pizza into the oven. Pizza first, because it needs a lot of heat for a short amount of time; bread second, because it still needs some heat, but more constant and longer lasting; and finally cakes, which need less heat and half the time the bread does. Looking down at herself, especially with the prospect of Alex approaching, she notices the extra pounds she's gained from worrying. It doesn't look too bad for a woman around 1640. And with those two children, how is she not to worry.

Beisdes Ingrid disappearing out of her life after that terrific announcement, she hasn't heard more from Freya than those odd text messages (Don't have lime to walk. Gotta blind Killian. Love. _F) and according to her boss she has called out of work for the week. Joanna can only hope that she's not slithering into new love troubles. Whenever Freya reaches majority, may that be in 1692 Salem or 2016 North Hampton, all her simple troubles – school, clothes, girlfriends – turn into boys. And it's not even getting them, that's troubling her. She attracts them easily, like light does flies. She just doesn't know what to do with them.

But Killian. He seemed like the right one. For a moment there Joanna thought she'd recognized two young Gods from Midgard in the Gardiner brothers. Two brothers of whom one is Freya's soulmate. Can she has been mistaken yet again?

"Stop worrying. That frown will bring everybody down", a familiar voice says then, startling her.

"Alex!" She swirls around. Wow. Alex is looking good. Then. What else did she expect? "You look great!"

"Thanks, Jo. You look... well. Worried." She shrugs, then they hug. "But who can blame you."  
After all, half of Joanna's family is dead – forever – and the other half has gone positively wild.

"No one, I guess. There's no one living in this house anymore anyway." She says it like it's not a big deal, but it really is. Her girls never lived that long.

She feels the older they grow, the less she sees of them. Although they live in the same town, they don't live under the same roof anymore. It's different. And with Victor, Wendy and Freddie all gone, she's gotten lonely. Before she drowns in self pity, Joanna squares her shoulders, puts on gloves and presents her baking."Fancy some pizza?"

Alex smiles kindly. "Smells delicious, but I think we should really have a look at the patient first. Is she upstairs?" From her one and only experience of watching Joanna throughout pregnancy she knows that it's connected to an increased level of naps.

Joanna shakes the head. "No, actually I haven't talked to her yet..."

"Jo!" Never before has a head-shake stirred so much guilt in Joanna as this one. "I know that today's parents are all about letting the children speak for themselves and sitting things out instead of confrontation, but. Ingrid is 31 years old. I think she'll be able to handle this." Alex nods seriously. And she's probably right.

"We'll visit her at the library tomorrow", Joanna decides, "It's too late to call her now and besides, this pizza is getting cold."

 **A/N: It's Sunday, I don't know when I'll be able to post again, so. Here we go. Have a nice week.**


	4. Old pains, new friends

Ingrid loves her job. Especially in times like these, where everything seems to be falling apart, it provides her with a stability that nothing else can offer. With her dissertation coming further and further – she needs to work her nervous energy off somehow – you might think that she would rather spend her time in the office doing archive work. But she doesn't. Even though she's over qualified for shelving. She could very well ask Barb or their new assistant, Drew, to put the books back into their place. To dust of the books, collect those people have been too lazy to put back – that kind of stuff. Those unappealing tasks that nobody wants to do, especially when you could be chatting about books or offer an extra reading hour to the kids who against all odds choose imagination over Hollywood.

Yet those little things are those Ingrid cherishes the most. Before she became aware of her witchy heritage she would re-sort her own bookshelves (yes, shelves; problem?) every couple of months. Now she lacks the time. It pains her to think of those books still hidden away in boxes at her apartment. In between all the deaths and the brand new life she never got to unpack them. Poor babies.

A hand flutters down to her belly. _Baby_. It never meant so much to her. It never meant so little.

Barb is well into her 8th month now and only working on her own insistance. Apparently, sitting at home doing nothing is very exhausting. Therefore, Barb has chosen to keep up the reading hour until- well. She's never clarified it, probably till her waters break.

Ingrid knows her friend is anticipating the birth, the baby. Barb has never wanted anything more than a family. Her own was never so close knitted as is Ingrid's, which added to the wish. It's good to know that she could help her friend with that. She's asked Ingrid to be the godmother right after announcing the pregnancy. Ingrid has accepted, _of course._ That's what you do for a friend. Besides, she's been looking forward to it. Being a godmother is kind of like motherhood, only without all the smelly diapers and arguments over homework. Godmothers, Ingrid knows, are only for fun – giving presents, going to the cinema – that's what they do. No responsibility.

Only now, there's no choice for her. She will have to take responsibility whether she likes it or not.

"Ugh!" Wrapped in her train of thought, Ingrid hasn't been watching where she's going. The air is knocked out of her lungs as she falls onto her back from the impact of running into someone quite tall and muscular.

"Oh, Christ, are you alright?" The voice sounds familiar somehow, but Ingrid is sure she's never seen this man. It's more like a deja-vù kind of feeling. Everything is happening so fast, she's astonished to find herself sitting on a bean bag, a cup of steaming tea resting on a table next to her in the blink of an eye.

The guy, whom she doesn't know but somehow does, is sitting on the opposite side of her, flanked by Barb and Drew. "Look who's back", Drew jokes. He's charming. Hudson would have liked him.

"What happened?" She tries to sit up a little, as she's pretty much slouched. Her lungs hurt.

"Well, you had your nose deep down in the book – as usual – but – unusually – this gentleman crossed your path and pretty much knocked you over", Barb adds jokingly.

"Not on purpose", the ' _gentleman_ ' adds.

"Of course not", Drew jumps in, a wicked grin on his lips, "And you owe him one. Practically saved your life."

Rolling her eyes, Barb slowly gets up with highly complicated motions – Ingrid dreads that stage of pregnancy just by watching her. „He's overdramatizing. Anyway, we must be on our way. You drink your tea and don't come back before you're finished!"

They walk/waddle off and Ingrid is left with her personal knocking air out of lungs gentleman. She tries a smile. "I guess a thank you and sorry for running into you is in order? So, er. Thank you and sorry."

" No worries. I'm just glad you're alright." He replies with a smile. "Troy Overbrook", he adds, offering his hand. Nodding, she shakes it. "Ingrid Beauchamp."

"Ingrid", he repeats, "That's pretty."

"Yeah? I always thought that my sister got luckier, Freya is such a pretty name with a nice meaning..." She shaked her head. "Sorry, that's not exactly a 'thank you' talk..."

"No, it's fine. I'd like to hear it, really."

"Really?"

"Really. Actually, I'm glad you ran into me."

Now she's lost his train of thought. " _Really?_ "

"Yeah, gave me an opportunity to ask you out for coffee."

Her head is spinning, from lack of air or what he just offered, she doesn't know.

"Or dinner? Lunch? Or If you don't do eating, maybe a book recommendation." He smiles. Full teeth. It looks lovely.

Ingrid doesn't answer right away and when she wants to, she's interrupted. "I..."

" _INGRID_!" This time she's sure whose voice that is, her mom's. And the sounds of heels on the floor tell her she's not alone. Her mom has not touched high shoes since Wendy and Freddie died.

"Mom?" Without any help, she's not as far along as Barb after all, she gets up. Her head is still spinning a little, her hand goes to a chair to assist her in keeping upright.

"Ingrid, Barb told us you fell? Are you okay?" The second woman is Alex, she's looking worried. Ingrid lifts her hand in greeting then the newly found air leaves her again by her mom's crushing hug. "Mom-"

"Are you in any pain? Have you checked on the baby?", Alex adds.

" _Baby_?"

The croaked sound reminds them that it's not just the three of them. There's Troy. They all look at him, Ingrid with a half-smile.

"Thor?", Joanna asks.

For Ingrid, the line's been drawn. She faints.

 **A/N: Thank you guys for reading. Let me know what you think and have a nice weekend. :)**


	5. Lost and found?

When Freya was young and had yet to discover the joys of being a rebellious teenager she actually took a great interest in school and being good at it. Following in her sister's footsteps, so to say, she took part in various extra-curricular activities. One of them was the spelling bee. She was relatively good at it, one time she even beat Ingrid, just to be kicked out one round later on a word that she didn't know. It wasn't even hard, Ingrid told her afterwards. But up until this moment, Freya had not come in touch with it. Frustration. F-R-U-S-T-R-A-T-I-O-N.

Now, 20-some years later, she's well aware of its meaning. More so at this very moment as she's ever been before.

The lights are on at their house when she finally gets home after a week of looking for Killian; a week of writing texts; a week of driving back and forth; a week of barely sleeping and If mostly in the car; after the first week in her life where she's actually spent no time worrying about her looks.

Freya is so done with this. If Killian doesn't want to be found – fine! She's sick of it.

And she's very happy to see that someone is home to praise her decision. It's been hard enough in the making, she should at least get a 'I'm proud of you, Freya', right?

She storms in without a second look at the mirror, because – alright, she might have spent a little time on her looks. But very little in comparism to her normal routine. It's definitely been a challenge. "You guys better listen up, because I've got a valubale lesson for all of us and you won't believe this – _woah_!"

Their kitchen is unexpectedly crowded. It's not only her mom and Ingrid – who's looking kinda pale, but maybe she's just sorry because she scared off Killian (although in the official story Freya will say she just had to leave him _to pursue her free spirit_ ) – but another woman. She recognizes her easily as Alex, who helped them back when Ingrid hooked up with the Mandragora. It definitely makes sense for her to be here.

"So... what's going on?" Somebody will explain. That's what they do. She's the baby of the family, after all. That is, until July (she's done the calculation). Except Mandragora pregnancies work differently, anyway.

"Freya. Did you find Killian?", her mom asks, patting the only empty chair left. "You look tired, baby. Shall I make you some tea?" _Tired._ Yes, that's what she lacked, concealer.

As she takes the seat she never takes her eyes of the stranger. "I'm fine, thank you. And no. I really would rather not talk about him right now." She takes a deep breath and releases it. Some drama can't hurt. "I've left him. For good."

"What? Freya! Are you sure? I thought he was-"

"My soulmate, yes", she nods, gently interrupting her sister. "And even though I still think he is, we just can't be together. It's not meant to be."

Ingrid shakes her head, she's gaining a little colour now. Apparently, stress does her well. Who would've known? "But I don't understand, you guys were so happy..."

"Some things just aren't forever", she shrugs. Her mom puts a mug in front of her. Ginger with honey.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry", Joanna says, combing through her daughter's long, dark hair. Freya leans into the touch. Ingrid is hugging her from the other side. It's comforting. It always is. She decides not to say anything else. It's nice like that.

"Maybe time will fix it", Alex cuts into their silence. "But some things can't be fixed by waiting."

It feels like the temperature is falling. All warm bodies and hands are suddenly withdrawn from Freya. She snorts, disappointed.

"Do we need to discuss this now? Freya is obviously upset and we shouldn't upset her further", Ingrid says quietly, shifting in her seat. She's all pale again now.

"The earlier the better. You'll only get attached..."

" _Time_ really doesn't matter."

"Well, what if it does? One day might make the difference between it making you ill-"

"You can't force me!"

"Woah, hold on", Freya interrupts, this time less gently. "Are you trying to hurt my sister?"

"Hurting? Honey, no, I'm trying to save her." Alex looks at Joanna, takes her hand. "We're trying to help you, Ingrid."

"It doesn't feel like help to me", Ingrid counters. She's pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them. A real hug would probably be better, so Freya goes in for it.

"Shouldn't you – you know – test her, before you do anything? I mean it might be..." _Dash's_. She can't say it. Before they became witches; before everything happened, this was supposed to be her response to 'Who's the daddy'. She loves Ingrid, but this is really too weird. "Human."

"Well. No. It's either magic or mandragora", Joanna puts in. On the inside, she's still a teacher. "Sorry." And sometimes she can't help herself.

"Still. You should test her before suggesting abortion", Freya insists. Ingrid nods fiercly. Obviously, she's grateful for siding with her.

Alex sighs. "Well, If she'd let us take some blood from her..."

"Wait! You didn't let them test you?" Now, Freya is very confused. Sometimes her sister thinks differently, smarter in a way. Joanna used to tell them that Freya was more like her, while Ingrid was a lot like their run-away and now dead dad.

Ingrid shakes her head, slowly. "You don't understand..."

"Darn right I don't. Just let them do the test, what's the risk?"

"None", Alex replies, "Neither for the baby, nor you."

"It's not as easy as that..."

"Then explain!" Freya, again, is frustrated. F-R-U-S-T-A-T-E-D.

Nobody says anything. Ingrid whimpers. Joanna buries her head in her hands, apparently feeling like her younger daughter. Alex looks on sternly.

Then Freya's phone rings. Killian.

 **A/N: Let me know what you think and what you would like to see :)**


	6. Blood

At four in the morning, Joanna can't pretend that she'll fall asleep any longer. It always takes her long to fall asleep, especially after unresolved arguments. Today, however, is different. She won't be able to sleep at all. Not until they test the blood that they've drawn from the – hardly cooperating – eldest daughter.

Joanna feels ashamed for the way they've waited for Ingrid to fall asleep. Before they did it, it seemed like a good idea. Well. Not good. But it was a plan and that was more than they had before. Coaxing her into spending the night was relatively easily. Ingrid didn't feel like driving home on her bicycle at this hour anyway. She's always been very selective when it came to choosing friends, no matter the lifetime, so that her relationships are limited by numbers. Maybe she felt lonely, too.

 _Then, when they were sure she was asleep, they went into her room and..._

Joanna chops some cinnamon. She's baking. Gingerbread. One of the girls' favourites, even in Summer. The blood is on the counter, only a couple of feet away from where she's standing. A cup of blood, not a whole one, but enough for a couple of tests.

 _Ingrid woke up almost immediately as the needle touched her, screaming. Alex held her down easily._

Sometimes it's hard for Joanna. She's got no role model for a mother, since her own died giving birth to Wendy. As rulers their parents had been far too wrapped up in their own business to mind this of their children. They always had nurses. Joanna remembers that she didn't cry when her mother died. Today, she cannot even recall what she looked like. Trying to be a good mother when you have no one to compare you with can be exhausting. She's made mistakes in past lifetimes. Like in the early 1700s when she was raising the first incarnations of her girls after Salem. She left them, both well before the age of majority, on a Christmas morning. A year and a half. That is how long the girls managed to take care of themselves. Alone in that house in the woods. Joanna never went back to see what exactly happened. Maybe they'd starved to death. Maybe worse. She can't let herself wonder about that or she will break.

At least she had enough common sense to ask Wendy to move in with them the next time around. Between 1692 and 1843, when Freya was lost to love and an evil spirit, the girls lived six times. Five of which Joanna let Wendy handle them. One time she even completely disappeared and only returned upon finding herself pregnant.

If the girls knew about everything, would they still want them to be their mother at all?

Ingrid, most likely, wouldn't. She doesn't forgive easily, not even her favourite aunt. But maybe she's lost to Joanna now. Whether she'll ever find out or not.

 _She'd screamed so loudly it had to wake Freya up. And it did. The younger Beauchamp was mortified by what she saw. She pulled Alex away, almost spilling all of that precious blood._

Maybe not just Ingrid is lost in this lifetime. After all, Freya ran after her one hour ago.

They have yet to return. Joanna doubts they will. Ingrid has her own flat now, they're probably there. Hopefully. It makes her anxious not to know. Then, it's her fault. She's broken their trust.

"She wouldn't have given it to us voluntarily, Jo. You know that", Alex says as she returns to the kitchen. It's creepy how she can read Joanna's mind so quickly. "We did the right thing."

"Is there really a 'right thing' in this situation?" She sighs, massages her temples.

"She might not appreciate the fact that she's still alive right now, but I'm sure she'll come around to realize that we have to find out. In order to protect her."

Mandragora pregnancies are scary. The baby feeds off his mother by using his tentacles, scarring her intestines. As the pregnancy progresses, the mother will go mad. And in the end -

Joanna shakes her head. She really can't think about this right now.

"Have you found everything you need?", she asks instead. The sooner they get this over with, the better. Dealing Ingrid's card told them nothing. She hopes this will.

"Yup. We can get the cooking started."

Joanna's eyes drift to the gingerbread. She'll put it in the fridge and bake them in the morning. Maybe If Ingrid doesn't cast a spell on the library she will be able to drop some of. Hopefully, she'll let Freya heal the wound. It was bleeding a lot.

 _Thin blood is also something that comes with Mandragora venom. But that doesn't have to mean anything..._

Joanna looks at Alex' recipes. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she's been holding. When the sun rises, they'll know.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! R &R is welcome! :)**


	7. Asgardian Romance

_Mom's been texting me all day. I want to ignore her, but I think she's worried for real. _F_

 _Do you think I should text her? _F_  
 _No, I shouldn't. She's been awful to you. _F_

 _Or should I? _F_

 _Ingrid? _F_

 _Please? _F_

 _Ingrid, What do I do? _F_

Sighing, Ingrid hits send. _Yes_ , she may text her If she wants to. Freya has no need to be as angry as she herself is. It was nice of her to follow Ingrid home and make sure she was safe. Breaking off her connection to her mom? Freya gets angry easily, but she doesn't hold her grudges.

It's weird. Ingrid thought she would hold hers longer. Yet she only wants to know why. And she wants to know what they've found out, even though she'd never admit it. She won't ask. If her mom texts her, _fine_. But she won't be the one thinking about it.

That's all lies, of course, and Ingrid knows it is. She can't stop thinking about who the father of her baby is. She can't stop thinking about what her baby is. This lunch date is a welcome distraction.

Troy – or Thor, but she can't call him that without thinking about Chris Hemsworth – is nice. She's surprised he's called her after that first encounter at the library.

"I know one or two things about being in your position", he said when she asked, "I'll explain when we meet."

She felt slightly ambushed when she found not only Troy sitting at the table. In a stroller next to him two little girls, not older than a year, were dozing off. Troy's daughters. Their mother is a Valkyrie with absolutely no interest in them. Troy has more, though he's obviously struggling. The bags under his eyes, the stains on his wrinkled shirts and his mismatched socks tell her he's exhausted. Also, he tells her so himself.

He tells her all about his first eight months of being a single parent. Ingrid knows he does that to show his sympathy for her situation. He's very open and she appreciates that, once she's recovered from the shock. It's also nice that he doesn't expect the same of her. She's just sipping her juice while he's rambling away about the joy of disposable diapers and easily heatable baby bottles.

It's different from any other first dates Ingrid has ever been on and she doesn't know whether it's a real date at all. But he seems so happy that she's there. Especially, when she offers to hold Molly, the younger twin, after she wakes up.

"You must tell me If she gets too heavy... or If you have to go somewhere else?" He nods towards her phone.

Ingrid blushes. Of course he's noticed all the texts. "Oh no, that's just my sister."

"Freya." Troy's known them in Asgard. It's both comforting to know that she can tell him anything without him calling her crazy, and weird to know that he might know more about her than she does herself. "Still causing trouble after all those centuries?"

She likes his smile. "Some things never change, huh?" With a look at the baby in her arms she adds: "And some do, I guess."

"Yes... yes, they do", he agrees pensively.

"Everything alright with you?" They nod at their waitress. "They're very sweet", she compliments the twins.

They leave soon after, when Mardi wakes up too and both of the girls start fuzzing. Ingrid offers to come with him. It's comfortable. She wants to know more about Asgard, and maybe, eventually, perhaps, discuss her own issues with him. But not right now.

The waitress is not the last to have a look at the 'very sweet' (although very cranky) twins. It's astonishing how seasoned Troy answers the strangers questions.

Then, Ingrid changes the first diaper of her life.

She finally tells him about how complicated her situation really is when the girls are both asleep again. Splitting them up apparently sped up the process of getting them there and Troy is very grateful.  
"I guess a thank you and an apology are in order?"

"What for?" She's seriously puzzled.

"Well, thank you for helping me with the girls", he raises his glass of water in cheers, "And sorry because I assumed your situation was as easy as mine. It obviously isn't."

He's trying to be funny, but it doesn't really work on her. "Yeah. I guess it's not."

"Hey. I'm sorry. Really."  
"It's fine. It's not your fault."

 _Then, whose is it?_

She stays till dinner. They change their topic to Asgard mostly. It's funny to think of this handsome guy chasing after her. That's usually Freya's role. She can't believe that her Asgard-self could ignore him like that. For ages. Her own self surely can't.  
"I had a nice time today", Ingrid says, standing in the doorway. She's put on her shoes and jacket, ready to go, yet the door is still closed. She doesn't really want to leave. And she can see he'd rather have her stay. If that is for being with her or for her helping with girls she can't be sure of. Probably a little bit of both.

"Me too", he says. "I'm glad you agreed to meet me... and didn't run off when you met the two Graces." His wink is utterly handsome. "Maybe we can do this again sometime?" He looks down at her hands? Belly? She can't possibly tell. "Maybe without the girls..."

And there it is. "I'd love to Troy, but..."  
 _But._

I'm not in the right place right now.  
I'm not what you're looking for.

I'm not...

"I understand. With the girls then."

She smiles. "I'd love that."

Ingrid cycles home with a few ignored calls on her phone. She doesn't mind.

 **A/N: Had to pass some exams, sorry for the delay. Let me know what you think :)**


	8. Guess who's back

If there's one thing Freya Beauchamp isn't known for, it's keeping her calm. Therefore, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to Killian (her (ex?) fiancé) that she didn't fly into his arms weeping upon his return.

Instead, he's greeted by flying stuff she's creating out of thin air. Additionally she threatens to use more magic against him. To hex him. There's no repercussions for selfish magic use. This is not Charmed. This is the real world.

"Freya...", Killian tries. It doesn't work. She knows her name. He's hit by a fish.

"Ingrid showed me that trick", Freya tells him.

"Freya, please, you have to-"

"Oh, trust me, I don't have to do anything... do you like salmon?"

Kieran shrugs, confused. "I..."  
"Don't bother." He's hit by a salmon. "Suits you."

Freya doesn't even pay attention to Killian. She's putting on lipstick. Her shift starts soon, she needs to get going. Her hands run through her hair. She whispers two words and a cloud materializes over Killian's head, pouring.

"Freya, please! This is not funny anymore!"

"You think? Well, looking for you the last couple of days wasn't funny either. Let me tell you." She checks the thermometer. It's not too cold outside, a light jacket will do. She grabs one of her denim ones. Not a lot of people can pull off jeans with denim jackets. Freya is one of them. One time she even wore jeans with a denim shirt, denim jacket and a denim hair band. It was a Grease themed party. Pretty fancy.

She pushes past Killian and his cloud, opens the door to show him out. "Would you mind? I don't think my mom will appreciate you getting water all over the hallway."

"Freya! Listen!"

"I did. I listened and I looked. For far too long. Bye!"

"But you weren't even looking for me", he exclaims, exasperated.

"WHAT?"

"I'm gonna kill him", she decides, sipping her cocktail. Tasting cocktails is kinda the best part of her job. Except for making people happy, obviously.

"I thought that too, in the beginning, but I reconsidered", Killian says. His hair is still a little wet. He's not getting any drinks tonight, because there's only one explanation for 'jumping into the sea for a little swim' when it's 57°F outside – being drunk. And they don't serve people who are already drunk here. He's having water.

"Really?" She can't believe him. "He swaps bodies with you, pretends to be you, stays with me..." Freya buries her head in her hands. Everything is spinning. She tries to remember – and at the same time not to remember – what happened with Kieran while he wasn't really himself. It's sickening.

Well. Now she can relate to Ingrid about the Mandragora.

"I know. I know." Killian shakes his head. "And that's unforgivable. Yet we can't kill him."  
"Give me one good reason why", she snorts. "Two Magic Moon Mornings!"

"Actually, I have to." He leans forward to tell her, but retreats when the customers collect their drinks. Then they both lean forward, meeting halfway.

"I'm listening", Freya says. She knows how to say that phrase in a convincing way well enough from her schooldays.

"Ingrid", he says, "And Dash junior."

Their moment is gone. Their distance grows immediately. Uncomfortably.

"We don't know that", Freya says, running a hand down her arm.

"Chances are 50/50 as far as I'm concerned." Kieran shrugs. "And in my experience a bad parent is still better than no parent at all."

"Oh. Yeah. That."

"He wanted me to give Ingrid a message, actually", he says. "And I want to do that. Not for him, obviously. But for her. And my nephew." He smirks.

"Killian, maybe you should stop." Freya frowns.

"Why? Don't you think I'll be a great uncle? Take him out to baseball games and to watch Wagner's Ring..."

"Because she's not having that baby. Whether it's Dash's or the Mandragora's."


End file.
